It's Not the Years in the Life That Count- It's the Life in the Years
by Mischief and Magic
Summary: Joanna McCoy is 9 when she begins stealing, 14 when Enterprise becomes a nationally recognized ship, 15 when she realizes something is off, and 17 when she steals to survive. (Or, the AU in which Joanna grows up a kleptomaniac.)


Joanna McCoy begins stealing when she's 9.

It's just the little things, like key chains and pins and buttons: stuff people don't really need or will ever use. Joanna doesn't intend to steal, of course- her mama taught her better than that- but it's a habit that sort of happened on its own. And, like all habits, once you start you can never really stop.

Of course, at this age, she doesn't know that her little _'habit'_ is called kleptomania.

(When Joanna does find out, she initially refuses to acknowledge that she's a kleptomaniac. Because that title would mean that she has a mental disorder. And she doesn't. She's _doesn_'_t_. She feels fine, and there's absolutely _nothing_ wrong with her.

So stop it.)

She doesn't plan out in advance what or when she steals. Joanna can virtually be doing anything before something in the distance catches her eyes and draws her in. Then, something inside of her just shrieks. It shouts. It _screams _that she has to take it, now, now, _now_, and it's around this point that Joanna gets incredibly tense and anxious. But when her fingers finally wrap around another nearly worthless object...

The overwhelming feeling of simultaneous relief, satisfaction, and pleasure is nothing compared to the anxiety.

Joanna wonders if she'll ever get caught.

She's not.

This is because she's quick and no one really suspects a 9 year old of being a thief.

This is because Joanna never keeps anything she steals and gives all she can away to tourists and unknown pedestrians.

This is because around this time Jocelyn Treadway is beginning to date a man named Clay, and while she will always put Joanna first, Clay is slowly but surely becoming a close second.

This is because her dad, Leonard McCoy, is somewhere in a far off place training to work on a ship that will travel to even farther places- different planets and solar systems and galaxies- and he's not allowed to contact her according to the divorce papers.

Now, here the thing: Joanna would love to blame her impulsive stealing on the divorce. Because the arguments, shouted curses, and hissed accusations? All horrible. Adults giving her condescending looks of pity? Horrible. Her dad- who would kiss away her tears and patch her up when she fell- abandoning Georgia (and _her_)? Was and is the _worst_.

But even though she's no expert about these kinds of things, Joanna still knows the divorce and her little habit have nothing to do with each other. Sure, she holds resentment for her parents, but she doesn't steal because of it. Which, of course, makes things even worse, because if she did, then at least her thievery would be _somewhat_ justifiable.

Joanna isn't proud of what she does. But her grades are still high, what she steals won't be missed, and no one is the wiser. So of course she doesn't bring it up to anybody.

In retrospect, she probably should have.

* * *

Joanna is 14 when the _Enterprise_ becomes a nationally recognized ship, and it's a wonder that she hasn't committed homicide yet.

It's a good thing she's a thief.

Because instead of being ignored by the majority of her classmates (which she was perfectly content with in the first place), Joanna finds herself in a period of constantly being pestered for information about the _Enterprise_- or more specifically, one James T. Kirk.

She struggles between resisting the urge to punch them in the face and wondering about the answers to her peer's nosy, insipid questions herself.

Because while "what shade of blue are Captain Kirk's eyes in real life?" is an incredibly vapid question, it's one that she _should_ know the answer to. She _should've_ met the Captain her dad served with and she _should_ know something about him. But she hasn't. She doesn't. Nothing that isn't common knowledge, anyway.

Hell, now that she thinks about it, Joanna barely knows anything about her dad.

She knows he's from Georgia. She knows he's the CMO on the _Enterprise_. She knows he has brown hair, even browner eyes, a crooked smile, and an intimidating scowl- just like her, according to her mama (but Joanna has yet to confirm this).

...She knows they're virtually _strangers_.

The worst part is, she's not even Joanna anymore. No, she's Joanna _McCoy_, daughter of Leonard McCoy- haven't you heard?

She wonders what people would think if they found out she was a good-for-nothing-thief.

She wonders what her dad would think.

* * *

Joanna McCoy is 15 when she realizes something is off.

...No, that's an understatement.

Something is undoubtedly terrifying, perplexing, and just plain _wrong_.

It's her closet. Or rather, what's inside of it. A seemingly endless mess of pocket mirrors, pens, string, key chains, buttons, rubber bands, pins, beads- anything and everything in the state of Georgia that's useless, really; Joanna was never picky about what she stole.

The problem isn't that she hasn't gotten rid of these things yet.

The problem is that she doesn't even remember stealing them in the first place.

At this point, Joanna has accepted the fact that she's a kleptomaniac. And she knows what this is, because she's done her research on the disorder- she just never thought it would happen to _her_. Depersonalization. Noun. A state in which one no longer perceives the reality of one's self or one's environment.

In other words: she can now steal without even realizing it.

This is bad. This is _bad_.

This is _bad_ and Joanna is _scared_ and she doesn't know what to think or do. She's lost control of her body. Her risk of getting caught while stealing has significantly increased. And she can't go to anyone for help.

(Of course, Joanna briefly contemplates going to her mother and Clay, but just she can't bear to think of the utter disappointment, disgust, and shame that will inevitably fill their faces. Anyway, they're happy as they are right now: married co-founders of a law firm who undeniably adore and love each other.

...Joanna doesn't have it in her to ruin their happiness.)

So she stays quiet. She throws out any stolen object found. And she goes on with her life- fear following in her wake.

Just like before.

Well, _no_, that would be a blatant lie. Of _course_ things have changed.

...It's _almost_ like before.

* * *

Joanna is 17 when she steals to survive.

The problem is that there's barely anything _to_ steal. Not objects that won't be missed- these days, they're everywhere on this planet (and she does take those).

_Food._

At first, Joanna manages to steal some chicken and bread to share with her starving classmates. Later, when things get worse, she snags some fruit to share amongst a handful of her close friends. Then, she stops sharing altogether.

And, eventually, she stops eating at all.

Joanna's supposed to be on Cerberus to learn. Instead, she's starving, and, hell, she might be even be dying, too. Her skin is flaky, her hair is brittle, and her eyes are sunken. She's past the point of caring, though- she doesn't really care about anything anymore. All that anger and desperation and fear and hope and hunger have been drained from her and replaced with complete indifference.

Anybody can tell you death by starvation is neither quick nor painless. A nurse-in-training like Joanna can tell you even more.

After the food is cut off, the body uses reserves in the liver and fatty tissues in order to function. Once the fat has been depleted, the body searches for protein, which can be found in muscle tissues. Muscles slowly atrophy, and the heart is no exception. In addition, symptoms of starvation include apathy, listlessness, withdrawal, and increased susceptibility to infectious disease. Other signs of starvation can include changes in hair color, flaky skin, and massive edema in the abdomen and lower limbs, causing the abdomen to appear bloated.

Now that Joanna thinks about it, her life can basically be summed up by chapters in her medical textbooks. _Psychology: The Effects of Divorce on Children. A Look at Kleptomania. The Symptoms of Starvation._

Joanna never thought she'd be another statistic. But something inside of her thinks that maybe, just maybe, this is what she deserves. Like this famine and the divorce are the universe's ways of making her pay for everything she's stolen, regardless of their worth- or lack thereof. A balance of sorts. There are always good things to balance out the bad, and vice versa, right?

So where are the rest of her good things?

* * *

Joanna is still 17, and she's still _alive_. Of course, because she's recovering, she blanks out a lot the next couple of weeks, and not the kleptomaniac-depersonalization blank out, but the malnourished-and-extremely-tired kind of blank out.

Her mind divides things into two categories: 'don't know' and 'do know'.

She doesn't know when the Federation ships pulled into Cerberus and helped the survivors, but she does know the majority of which were barely surviving. She doesn't know how long the doctors sedated her for treatment, but she does know they only did so because she resisted treatment. She doesn't know how long it will take her to manage the overwhelming survivor's guilt, but she does know which of her classmates died, and commits their names to memory.

She doesn't know what to say when her mama or Clay will inevitably contact her.

But Joanna does know her dad's face when she wakes up to it in the med bay. Her mama was right- his brown hair and even browner eyes _are_ just like hers. And she should be angry or upset or resentful or even a combination of the three, but at the moment all she can feel is relief and sadness and she just wants him to hold her. Like old times.

"Jo," Leonard McCoy breathes, and she remembers that sound. That southern drawl that's thicker than hers- she _loves_ that sound. "You've gone and grown up on me."

"Yeah, well..." Joanna trails off with a laugh. Or a sob. She can't really tell. It's only when her dad moves to her side and hugs her before she can even blink that Joanna realizes it was the latter. His arms are strong and they don't seem like they'll let go anytime soon and god this is so embarrassing because med bay isn't exactly a private area. But it's comforting and familiar nonetheless and Joanna is searching for something- _anything-_ to say after 11 years of separation.

She settles on one word.

"Daddy," She cries, leaning her head on his chest. And yes, it's a childish thing to say, but she's allowed this moment, okay? After separation for 11 years and a continuing kleptomania and a famine, she's _allowed_ this.

He kisses her temple, as if to kiss away her tears, and it's just like before, except not really. There's a lot they have to talk about before things are okay.

But Joanna knows that this moment...

..._Definitely_ one of the good things.

* * *

I tried to convey kleptomania and starvation as accurately and realistically as possible. If I screwed up, please, please, _please_ do not hesitate in telling me so; I'll fix any mistake as soon as possible. I hope you guys enjoyed reading!

This fic can also be found (with research sources) on AO3: /works/894308

Please review and/or favorite!


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